The Heart of Valeria
by wolfpackgirl92
Summary: Being a Skagosi means being brave, to never show fear even when facing certain death. I'm going to need bravery and courage if I'm ever going to survive this trip. My people are counting on me, and I cannot let them down.
1. Chapter 1

I'm not sure how people will react to this story. I know some people do not like OC's in GoT simply because there are already so many characters, but I could not think of any characters that were like mine and plus be able to do what I have done with their homelands. So, I have created an oc, and I am sorry to the people who do not like them. I will, however, only create the OC's from her island. All other characters I will make sure exist already, so do not fear of me doing something like that.

**WARNINGS:** I am more of a TV GoT fan than a book one. I have read the first two books and I'm in the middle of the third. I do not want to pass where it is on the TV and ruin it for me. However, I will be looking into the areas my character will go to so that it will be as accurate as possible. I will be changing certain things that happen to characters in the books, but the culture and history I will be keeping the same. If I do happen to get something wrong, I would be more than happy for a correction.

I hope you all enjoy.

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><p>"Ma I don't want to go," I whisper. Mother ignores me, finishing up the braid to get the rest of my hair out of my face.<p>

"You must. We know you will come home, you are our future to our people. If you are not strong enough, then who is?" She pats my hair down and sits in front of me on the ground as I am. Her face is worn, she is not warrior like many of our people. She chose to further our line, and made it her goal to have as many children as possible. I am her seventh child, and I have three siblings still after me. She has been having trouble conceiving now, her body finally catching up to her.

I tug at her braid, staring at the silver twined between the golden brown threads. I remember my mother used to be beautiful, but living as we do does not keep beauty. Father has been mostly honest to mother, but still fathered two bastards himself. Mother didn't seem to care too much, more angry at the women than anything. But she was proud of father when she found out one was a female master warrior, and takes care of that child as if her own.

The title of Master is our most coveted title. When one earns that title they have the right to do as they please with their life. But the title is hard to earn. There are only twenty two masters out of the four hundred and something people on Skagos. Most are warriors, but some are scholars and masters of their trade.

"You have a gift from the gods, you must use it," mother instructed, laying a kiss on my forehead. "You are our family's legacy."

"You don't know that," I murmur. "It might be someone else."

"The Master of Sight has declared it."

"No, she described someone _like_ me, not me. My sight doesn't even work that well. It comes at the most inconvenient times."

Mother smiles, shaking her head at me in amusement. I wish she would take me more seriously.

"This journey will teach you," she continues on. I bite my lip and nod, staring towards the ground.

What I cannot say to her is I am afraid. It would be dishonorable not only to myself, but to my mother. Skagosi never show fear, and it is a miracle to see a Skagosi child past ten cry unless in so much pain they do not realize what they are doing.

"Mainlanders hate us. Why can't we just save ourselves and leave them to rot?" I mutter scornfully.

We bend the knee to the Starks, but mockingly. Only House Magnar has to ever deal with them, thank the gods. I come from House Crowl, and we give our fealty to our current leader from House Skane, not the god forsaken Starks of Winterfell.

The northerner's don't understand our way of life, mocking our culture and calling us savages. They say we're cannibals and lechers, rapist with no morals. They do not even respect us enough to give us a proper welcome when we're forced to visit them, and call us Skaggs with disgust barely hidden on their faces.

Some of those rumors are true, I'll admit. But what they don't understand is that it's true only for _them_.

We will rape their women in war, and strip apart their men in the battlefield. But we will never hurt our own. Yes, we fight each other. Passion runs through our veins, and war seems to soothe it like a babe at their mother's breast. But after our fight amongst each other all of us will be walking home, unlike in the case of mainlanders.

"Because even though we hate them, the gods do not. Leave the judging to the gods Dakna, leave it to them," my mother reprimanded.

I nodded contrite, holding my tongue. When I feel like enough time has passed I ask her, "What warriors are coming with me?"

"Warrior Amerka will lead the warriors. Naman will also be there, in case Amerka needs guidance." I take a breath in, staring at my mother in surprise.

"Amerka? She will lead? I thought she was training to be a Master?"

"If this mission works she will _be_ a master. It would be much faster for her."

Amerka and I used to be close friends before she took the path of a warrior and I the sight. Time pulled us apart, but I still feel fond of her as I'm sure she is of me. She has been single minded these past few years, set on being the youngest Master Warrior in history. Nothing could pull her from it, not even family.

"Now your father met with Amerka and told he told me to tell you she is very different from the person you once knew. Do not get your hopes up Dakna."

I turn my face away, knowing that she is reading me as we speak. She's always been able to do it, I've never been able to keep anything from her because of that.

"Now all of your siblings are outside ready to say goodbye. Get that sad look off your face, be strong."

My brows raise in surprise and I arrange my expression. I have not seen my two oldest brothers in years. Both of them are warriors who guard the cost, and there are very few trips to visit family when in that line of work. My oldest sister I haven't seen in almost two. She took the path of the scholar, although lately I've heard my parents talk about her wish to come home and start a family. My parents were relieved, with her being three and twenty. They did not want to force her to come home.

Sure enough all of them are there, lined up in a row probably by fathers demand. Lana, my third oldest sister, does not look happy about it. A scowl is on her face. It disappears when she sees me.

"Nana! How are you?" She runs to me, almost knocking me over. My siblings laugh as I stumble, before falling to the ground despite my valiant efforts. She places kisses all over my cheeks and forehead, making me turn red in the face.

"Lana!" I complain. "I'm five and ten, not a child! Stop treating me so."

She grins, helping me up off the floor and rubbing the dirt off my traveling clothes. Mother made them especially for this journey. The wool is thick, meant to keep me warm in The Lands of Always Winter. I have a thinner set in my pack for my southern travels.

"But you will always be little to me dear sister." I roll my eyes before walking over to the youngest, Manark. He grins, both of his front teeth missing. He rubs his sleeve across his face to wipe the snot away and I make a note to watch what he does with that arm around me.

"When will you be back?" he asks, staring up at me. "Will you be back in ten moons? Twenty?"

"I do not know," I murmur. I don't even know if I will even make this journey alive. If not, I must instruct Amerka with the knowledge I have. Maybe where I will fail she will succeed.

My second oldest sister is much more reserved with her goodbyes. Holding me to her as her son attempts to tug a dark curl of mine out of the braid mother put it in. She kisses my cheek chastely and wishes me well, mentioning that her husband could not make it because he had to hold his post on the eastern side.

The rest of my siblings follow, one after another until they have all said their goodbyes. My traveling party has arrived by the end of it. When I see them the fear assaults me once more, but I make sure to keep my face blank. I have never went across the Bay of Seals, and doing so frightens me. I do not know what to expect, how different the land will be across the waters.

"Ye do me proud daughter," my father demands, wrapping an arm around me and kissing the top of my head. He's a big brute of a man, with one of the longest beards I've ever seen. I remember laughing with my sisters when I was younger, joking with each other that under all that beard laid a normal man. He's the epitome of what the mainlanders fear, appearing vicious with a scowl always on his brows. His height is seven hands taller than the average man. Many of my brothers have his characteristics, which both my parents are happy for. Even one of my sisters did, the one younger than me.

Too bad I know father's secret, that when around only us he will play and laugh just like a child. The scowl finally coming off his battle worn face and scarred cheek.

I do not tell him that I'll miss him, and neither does he. My hug to him tells him all he needs to know. He gives me another kiss atop my head and lets me go. The tears want to fall, but I hold them steadily, forcing myself to think of other things like the fact that I will be a Master of Sight if I complete this journey. The thought reinvigorates me, and I give my family a smile before hopping up onto my horse.

I glance to the right and notice Skad, a warrior turned scholar. It's rare to switch a trade so late training, so he was the talk of the island for almost eleven moons. He is still brought up even now.

"Don't forget ta' cover yer face when meeting the Lord of Winterfell. It won' do ta ave' them think we're a bunch a pretty, sweet faced girls," my father warns. The warrior's chuckle around me and father loosens his tight expression.

Our people do not mind beauty, and males like to find a beautiful woman to marry and brag about. But when it comes to the mainland we want them to think we're all ugly brutes. We want no lords coming our way in search of women. We need ours.

"Of course pa. I'll keep my hood on at the cost." He nods, and I can see him swallow thickly behind his thick beard, before slapping my horse on the rear into a canter. I turn to see my family, watching as they diminish in size until they disappear from view.

My courage leaves along with them.

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><p>Right now I know it sounds really AU, but I promise it will start getting more GoT starting with the next chapter. This one was more to introduce my character.<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

I need a beta if anyone is interested, so send me a PM or something if you'd like to beta for me!

Disclaimer: George RR Martin owns his characters and the whole GoT universe. I usually forget to put that, so this will most likely be my only disclaimer.

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><p>Skad instructs me on the way to the boat, telling me of some of the customs people across the bay have. First, we must meet with one of the Stark's. He is on some kind of mission to get his father back from what Skad tells me. We must meet the lord on the battlefield. He is requesting his bannermen to give him men for the war, and we shall give him some. Ten and no more. We have many hot blooded warriors with us, ones that hope to stop being virgins of war and to splash blood on the battle fields.<p>

Naman will be speaking for us, and he will make sure to sound slow and as ignorant as they come. I will simply be a part of his party as will Amerka. The Lord of Winterfell does not expect a women to be leading after all, and we shall let him think as he will.

"You ave' Skane in yer blood girl," one of the warriors assert from beside me. It reminds me to pull out my black hood from my bag and place it over my head. It reveals only my eyes.

Almost three centuries ago it's said that the men of Skagos attacked the people of Skane. When they did they found out some of the women had a gift that they called The Sight, an ability to see past and future events. They killed all their men and took the women and children with these gifts to incorporate into Skagosi society. Now when someone pops up with The Sight people say that they must have Skane in them. They also like to say you have Skane in you if you're pretty, because the legends say the women of Skane were beautiful like blooming flowers in the spring after a long winter.

"Hush," I murmur, leveling a glare at him. I may be no warrior, but I know I must hold my own against these men. They will not respect me otherwise. The boat comes into view, making my stomach lurch. I press a hand to my belly, the only cue on my inner turmoil. I am Stragosi. I am never afraid.

At least not on the outside.

"Don' be a child Dakna," Amerka snorts. "Tis only water."

I glare at her, and refuse to look at her the whole time I'm boarding the boat. It is not so different from how Amarka used to be, but before she would use equal amounts of sarcasm and amusement. Her tongue had earned Amarka a beating from her mother numerous times while growing up.

The sea pitches back and forth, making me stumble. I grab ahold of the side, not being able to withstand losing my dignity by a fall. Naman has no problems at all. He's currently the person in Magnar charged with being on the beck and call of the Starks. Usually they leave us Stragosi alone, but every few years or so he inquires of us. It's forced Naman to learn how to read, someone only scholars are usually bothered with. I remember years ago when Naman's father told him of his new duty. Naman was outside cutting up dummies with his sword for a week in his anger.

"I don't like this," I murmur, clutching the rail tightly.

"Neither do the horses." All of them are refusing to get on the ship, digging into the ground with hooves and showing the whites of their eyes. Amerka makes a clicking noise at one of her men and the guy walks over to calm the horses, slowly leading them aboard one by one.

"We have everything we need for this trip." While I was distracted Naman stepped beside me, surveying the men and horses on board.

"I was surprised about the scholar," I murmur softly.

He glances at me from the corner of his eye, his shoulder length brown hair tied in a ponytail at the nape of his neck and floating with the light breeze. He could be handsome if he wanted to be, but most of our men do not care about such things.

"We need him. He was chosen because of his… background," he says, referring to what I know is the switch in skills he had three years back. "We needed someone who could aid us with other cultures and politics, but also someone who could hold their own in a real fight. It's almost as if this were meant to happen, all the pieces falling into place." He clears his throat, straightening his back. "We have two dozen men, half which are going to Lord Stark."

"I thought only ten were," I interrupt, looking towards him. By now all the horses are under the deck, and the captain is directing our men on how to work the boat. The captain is Skagosi like us, and he only has one son who decided to make this his life skill. Three of the soldiers seem to know what to do and are helping to direct the others. They must have made this journey before with Naman.

"Plans change," he shrugs. "Fourteen men are too suspicious. A dozen men is too, but not as much." He rolls his shoulders, pacing in front of me with his hands clutched behind his back. "Most of these men are war virgins, ready to spill blood on the battle field. There are three veterans with us. We will be keeping them for us. Many of the warriors have things they excel at, such as hunting, scouting, and a gift with horses. All twelve are picked especially for this mission."

I stare across the sea, searching for land on the horizon. I see nothing, not even a speck. "Do these men have families?"

"Some do."

"They still wish to come?"

"Of course, this mission is an honor."

I know many of these men will not make it. I know because I have seen it. I hope they have given sufficient farewells to their families.

"Very well then." I walk away without another word, his report giving me all I need to know at the moment.

During the boat ride I found while I do not get boat sick, many of the soldiers do. Most always sit at the edge, heaving dryly into the sea. They emptied their stomachs the first few hours of the voyage.

"When will we reach land?" I ask Skad. He's been sitting next to me wrapped up in some text since the moment we left land.

"In the morning." He doesn't pull his gaze away from the book. I stare into the water. It doesn't appear to have an end, getting darker and darker until nothing is able to be made out in the murky depths.

"Why is this called the Bay of Seals?"

"Do you know what a seal is?" he asks, returning the question.

I shake my head and he sighs tiredly.

"This is why they had me come," he mutters under his breath as if I cannot hear him. I decide to ignore him. "A seal is a brown animal. It is large and fat, about as long as a human. It has long whiskers and fins, but can walk on land." It sounds like some type of mystical animal, like the unicorns mainlander's say they've seen on our island. Before I can reprimand him with a look of annoyance, he hurries out, "I'm not lying! There really is such a thing as a seal. I'm sure if you try hard enough your Sight will reveal one to you."

One does not use The Sight for such frivolous things. We take what it gives us, and only seek more knowledge when it is impertinent. But it seems he does not know _that._

"They say this is called this the Bay of Seals for what happened 8,000 years ago. When The Others were vanquished in the Battle for the Dawn winter finally began to turn to spring. The trees shook off the snow, pulling their drooping branches from the ground. The snow turned to water, drifting into the sea. Finally the sea around the coast began to thaw, and what was left here was carnage. Bodies floated in the bay, limbs frozen stiffly together to keep warm, and brown furs covered their bodies. They looked similar to the seals down south."

I suddenly begin to feel sick to my stomach, my minds' eye flashing back to 8,000 years ago. I shiver, my thick woolen clothing not being enough to keep warm. Darkness is everywhere, the flurries are so strong that the sun is blocked out. I notice a dark blurb in my vision, and hurry towards it with desperation.

"Hello!" I yell. "Can you hear me?"

When I am close enough I realize it is a group of people. I take a breath in, noticing the rock. My memory stirs and I see it is the same, jagged rock we passed almost an hour ago on the boat. It's unmistakable, thin and tall. It almost looks like a bolt of black lightening.

"Could you help me? Do you have anything you could spare to keep me warm?"

The man passes as if he didn't hear me, tugging the small child behind him. There are groups of families, all huddled together to keep warm as they walk. Slowly, each person drops. The ice working its way into their veins until they collapse onto the ice. The snow buries them quickly, erasing any proof that they ever existed. Finally, there are two left; a mother and son. The boy falls dead after struggling in the knee deep snow and the mother drops beside him in tears.

"Wake up!" she demands, slamming her palms on his frozen chest. The drifting snow flies off of his chest and into the air with every pound. "You must keep going! We must, or else this is all for naught." She cries onto him until her breath chills and her chest ceases its movement, frozen in an eternal embrace between mother and son.

I breathe in deeply, my eyes darting around in panic. The blue ocean greets my eyes, and behind me I hear the bustling of my men as some retch and others move about on the planks. I am back to the present.

That is how it works, my visions. The gods decide when to give me them, not me. A more skilled person would be able to choose when to get a vision, channneling themselves to get them when they're ready. Sadly I have not learned this skill. I can have one at any moment of the day, even when I sleep.

"This should not have been called the Bay of Seals," I amend softly, turning to Skad. "But the Bay of Death."

I look down into the ocean, and for a moment I swear I see two brown, shimmery blobs sitting at the bottom of the dark sea.


	3. Chapter 3

Now that I think about I'll have to go back on what I said this is story based on. I seem to be using parts of the book AND the TV show. If I know a character is different than how they are casted in the TV show I'll be using the book one. Also, I don't think I'll manage to get a beta, but does anyone want to be my GoT expert? I'd just ask questions about things I have no clue about an can't find on the GoT wiki.

Don't forget to review!

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><p>The next morning the shore is finally visible, and I can definitely say I've never loved the sight of land as much as I did at that moment. By noon we were docked, and a few hours later ready to start our voyage. Amarka rides on one side of me and Skad on the other. Our ride is silent, except for the men behind us talking.<p>

"Have you _seen_ anything about the Lord of Winterfell?" Skad inquires, referring to my Sight.

I shake my head. "You probably know more of him than I do, and this damned thing is so hot," I complain, tugging at my face covering. It covers both my nose and mouth making it hard to breathe. I'd abandoned my cloak long ago. It sat bunched in my pack, crinkled and long forgotten.

"You must," Naman interrupts from behind me. He pulls his horse aside Amarka's.

"Can't I just put dirt on my face or something? Act like I'm dumber than the cows they feed?"

"Take it off for a moment?"

I do so, and he carefully surveys my face before grimacing. "Do both."

He trots up to the front with the scout and I growl, shoving the fabric back onto my head. I hope when we get further south we can pass for another people and I won't have to hide myself.

"If ye were ugly it wouldn't matter," Amarka says lightly. "I bet naow ye wished ya looked more like yer pa."

She isn't far off. I've always kind of liked that I was pretty and small. I knew a warrior would never be my husband, he wouldn't want to risk his off spring being so tiny, but I would always be admired.

When Amarka and I were small, she envied my beauty. She would try to use it against me, saying things like a face so pretty could never understand her problems. But now she is happy for her looks. I've heard rumors of many warrior's attempts to court her, proof of her strength and skills on the battle field. Warriors do not just choose any old person for their mate. Although my mother is not a warrior she is big boned and tall, attributes many warriors look for. I am an anomaly in my family. My father has joked many times about my mother having gone to the Gnarled Tree of Prospects, a place many secret lovers meet because of the heart shape the two trees seemed to make, and had her way with some weak boned scholar to create me.

"I wish I wasn't so delicate," I admit. I'd tried the warrior path before, attempting to follow Amarka in her persuit and ignore my Sight. But I couldn't even pull a Bow completely taunt. After almost two moons with no improvement the trainer's attempted to let me off easy, telling me I just wasn't made for the path of the warrior and sending me back home to Deepdown.

I threw a fit about being sent back for almost as long as I stayed. Mother got tired of it and sent me to the Circle of the Sight. It was convenient for mother, who had already lost all of my older siblings to either skill training or marriage. The Circle of the Sight was only a half hour from home. She prayed every day to the gods hoping my Sight would improve and I could stay. She wanted at least one child for herself, one to hold and take care of.

"Does he really want me to rub dirt on my face?" I mumble.

"Naman don' joke."

No, of course he doesn't. Naman has been serious even as a boy, that's not going to change with him closer to thirty than twenty.

I turn to Amarka, taking in the familiar bump of her nose and dark, thoughtful eyes. Her blonde hair is in a bun at the top of her head, the hair slicked back with water so few hairs get out. She is different from when I last saw her. Now her bosom has grown, and her personality is much darker. I can still see some of the girl I used to know, but it is hidden underneath so many layers that I do not think it would be worth the dig for it. Besides, she is like this for a reason. It is who she had to be in order to make her dreams come true.

"Marka," I whisper softly. The nickname, once so familiar, startles her. It makes her horse speed up a moment before she pulls the reigns back and sits side by side with me again.

"Dakna?" She does not return the sentiment, but I notice her voice is not as callous as before. I take a breath in, making sure no one is paying attention to us before beginning.

"I do not know if I will survive this trip."

Her protest begin immediately.

"Dakna, don' be silly. The Master of Sight as' seen it."

"No," I disagree. "She has not. She saw me doing this journey, not completing it. My Sight shows me many things, and one is most of us will not be alive. Only three from our party will be returning to Skagos."

She breathes in deeply taken aback, but takes this in stride. "Tha tis three chances fer ye ta make it, fer me too. The warriors knew they would most likely not make it back. Many of them er' newly blooded warriors itching fer a fight, and the others er' hoping ta get closer ta a Master's title by doing this. They viewed the pros an' cons themselves and decided that this would be worth it. All of us bring honor ta our people."

But honor does not keep one alive is what I want to say. She would not understand though. She lives by her oaths, the Seven Vows of the Warrior. All warriors take it when being accepted into the skill. It is so engrained that they cannot see anything else. All Skagosi hold our sworn words up on pedestals, our minds set in their ways. Every morn we wake up and say the pledge, and every night before sup we repeat it. Warriors have the Seven Vows of the Warrior, I have The Five Pillars of Sight. Maestar's have The Oath of Three and scholars The Rules of Scholarly Pursuit. All the skills have words they've sworn to. It gives us a brother and sisterhood, something to live and fight for.

We have different vows, but two of them are the same throughout our diciplines: to never show fear; and to keep honor, dignity, and courage intact. We view the mainlander's as weak. The grown men cry, begging for their lives. They have no morals they uphold, and most do not even pray to the gods anymore. They are a weak and forsaken people.

Our people are too few to do much damage, so we cannot go to war for our independence again, and they always have another soldier to replace the one fallen unlike us. So while our fighters are great warriors, they cannot take on the whole world. We tried gaining independence once, and our defeat almost wiped us out. Warriors do not know how to stop fighting, they do not give up. Not even when it's clear there is no hope. Their dying breath is on the battlefield, and when one feels like their age is getting in the way they make sure to die honorably in battle. It would be undignified to flounder about.

This way of life almost killed us. Even so, we are not willing to change. We are a very resolute people.


	4. Chapter 4

Ugh I had so many issues with this chapter. Plus I have had finals for the past few weeks so I decided to put this story on hold because it has the least hits. Thanks for reading!

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><p>I shove my hands into the dirt, letting it crumble between my fingers before taking the fine dust and scattering it onto my clothes. The week of traveling has already put some grime on me, but I must get dirtier if I'm to be convincing. Finally, swipe it across my face, making sure to run some through my hair. We are savages as the mainlander's say, and we must look the part when greeting the Stark Lord.<p>

All the men are doing the same, dirtying their weapons although I can tell it pains them. One of the larger warriors pass me with a chuckle.

"All these young one's prefer tha sword, but ah like mah club ere'." He displays it to me, showing me the chinks in the wood. "You see this one? Ah lost tha' piece when ah broke a man's teeth out." He chuckles loudly, holding his great bear of a belly. "The man's last dinner was wood!"

He walks away laughing, swinging his bat as he goes. I don't know much about him, except he's from House Stane and a seasoned warrior. He has only one son, as it is his duty, but he loves war more than any child or wife he could take.

"Do you think they will make me take my hood off?" I murmur to Amerka. She gives me a sharp look.

"Why would he bother looking at ye? Yer pretty face'll be all covered up."

We'd thought about separating and having Naman go with the fourteen men we were to give to Lord Stark, but we did not want to lose each other and decided against it. We do not know this land, or what beast visit it. Skad assures us that there aren't any creatures here that aren't able to be taken care of with some ease, but the warriors are still weary. It seems their steps grow heavier the farther we get from home.

"You will most likely not even have to greet the lord. Only Naman must talk to him. He will probably send us to the other soldiers," Skad assures me. He stares at Amerka's breast, a thoughtful look on his face. Amerka scowls when she notices.

"Do ya wan' ta blade through yer eye?"

Skad makes a noise of disapproval, straightening his tunic. "I assure you I am not looking for the reasons you are thinking. It would be easier to try and pass both of you off as men. Dakna is small chested and slight, able to be mistaken as a boy with a hood on. But you…" he trails off, staring at her breast. I suppose they are quite large. Mine are almost nonexistent. My hands can cover my entire breast and then Amerka's are big. I am not even sure binding them would completely hide them.

"There is nothing ta do fer them," she answers. "Just have Dakna play tha part of a boy. I can be some big brute of ah woman."

He nods and when he walks away she takes more dirt and rubs it across her, placing a scowl on her face. I grin, laughing at her. "You look the part Amerka. I'm sure they won't even hesitate on you."

Pleased, she mounts her horse and gestures for the rest of us to do so. The war camp can be heard from here. I'm surprised we haven't seen any scouts around.

The Lord of Winterfell seems to be lax.

Skad was worried about me looking out of place before since no one else was using their cloak. But the wind has picked up recently, bringing colder weather and now all but three of us wear them. I'll admit when I first heard a scholar was coming I was hesitant, but he has been very useful thus far. Plus, he can hold his own. Not like our warriors, but against the average swords man in Westeros he would excel.

We pull our mounts into a trot, hoping to finish this part up quickly. We do not want to stay here any longer than we have to.

"Have you been studying the common tongue?" Skad asks, pulling up beside me.

Skagosi speak a mixture of the Old and Common Tongue. We used to speak both languages long ago, but over time they blended together to create a language both old and new. It is also how we view ourselves, holding the old ways but still taking parts from the current world.

I scowl, something akin to a pout on my face. But I would never call it that. Skagosi do not pout. "Yes, I've studied it for the last year."

His brows raise in surprise. "You can read?"

I pause. "I listened to it for the past year," I amend. Skad frowns, switching to the Common Tongue.

"Do you understand me?"

"Uh…" It takes me a moment to figure it out, the sentence structure different from what I am used to. "Yes."

"Good, speak to me in this tongue until we get there."

I get the gist of his sentences, although do not understand every word. I grumble under my breath displeased. I am not a scholar. I should not have to pursue knowledge. But the Master of the Sight told me to learn, so I must.

He makes small talk with me, describing things around us in the Common Tongue. I nod along as if I understand, but really all it is doing is giving me a headache. Translating all those words is tiring.

The camp sit before us, and all I can feel is are more people here than I thought existed in this world. And this is only the men, not even including women and children. I stare wide eyed around me, before remembering myself and making sure to hide in the shadows. The warriors surround me, in hopes to help me blend in. No one is paying any attention to us though, only Naman.

"Halt. Who are you there?" One of the guards asks, holding his pike in a way that is easily assessable in a fight.

"I am Lord Naman Magnar of Kingshouse. I am here to report to Lord Stark of Winterfell."

They give is a throurough perusal with their eyes, disgust evident in them. One of their eyes lands on me and hesitates.

"Hey," the other says. "Why is that one hiding?" I freeze, because I know he could only be me. I lift my eyes slightly, meeting the gaze of Naman. We stare at each other unblinking.

At our wordless reply they call more soldiers over. They hold bows, aiming at our throats and my shoulders straighten. I am not afraid of death, and they cannot bully a Stragosi.

"Take the cloak off lad, show us your Lannister colors."

I do not even know what a Lannister is, but Skad does. He seems to flounder momentarily, before gathering himself. "That person is no Lannister."

One of the guards respond swiftly, saying something I do not understand. Naman does, and he jerks his head towards mine. "Take the cloak off."

I hesitate, but then pull it down. It does not calm the soldiers at all, and they pull the bow even more taunt. More words are exchanged, and I begin to wonder exactly why all of this is necessary.

"He says to take the mask off Nana." The use of my nickname takes me aback, and I stare at Naman in surprise.

"I will not," I answer.

"Skad has already tried to explain it is a cultural difference or something like that. They will not buy it." When he sees I still refuse to he hops off his horse, placing his hand on my knee.

"Them knowing you are a female is not worth your life. If they kill you they will know the same. Be reasonable. I know you are angry, we all are. But they think behind that mask lies a spy."

I snort, rolling my eyes. "And they will know a spy by the face?"

"I never said mainlander's were smart." He reaches up and slowly tugs off my mask. I want to grab it back, I now feel bare without it. But Naman is right. Dying to reveal this will help nothing, and Amarka does not yet know what to do in order to continue this mission.

Finally the mask is off. The soldiers immediately loosen their taunt bows in surprise.

"Why it's a woman," one of them remark, stating the obvious. They all look my up and down and I stare forward, my jaw clenched.

Their perusal has shamed me.

"If I were warrior I would rip out your tongue and shove it up your ass," I remark in mostly Common Tongue, my voice clear. They all chuckle, seeming to get the message, and although my warriors do not know what is going on they growl in anger, feeding off of me.

The mainlander's think I am joking, but that is really what I would do given the chance. The hatred in my eyes once our gaze meets cuts his laughter short, making it freeze in his throat.

"What do you know? The Skagg woman has a bit of a bite."

"I'll tell ya wat," one of them says. "Give er' to me. A beauty like that don' belong with savages, and I'll train er' good and right."

It's the last straw for Naman. He pulls the nearest pike from the soldier and slams the person in the throat not even bothering to use the pointed side. He flies backwards and stays motionless and I smirk, happy with the outcome. Naman drops the pike in distaste, placing his hand on his sword with purpose.

"Now, I suggest you let us pass unless you want to end up in a similar position. Yes, we will most likely be dead by the end. But you will be too."

It remains silent and we remain at a standoff, both parties waiting for the other's first move.

"What in the seven hells is going on?" A man larger even than my father lumbers over, his voice loud and shocking.

"Lord Umber," one of the men says, giving him a bow. "We were just deal with the Skaggs."

He gives us a perusal, his eyes halting when they meet mine. He takes me in with a thoughtful look before grinning. "Looks more like you were going to war with them! Relax boys! Let them through," he bellows. I do not think the man has the ability to speak low.

They finally drop their weapons, and we loosen our grip on ours. Lord Umber looks to the fallen guard and chuckles.

"Is he dead?"

One of the men feels for a pulse. "No my lord. He's knocked out cold," he announces.

If Naman really wanted to kill him than he would be dead, but Naman is sly. He knew killing him _could_ come with repercussions, but simply knocking him out will do nothing.

But of course we're Skaggs, we're not able to think up something like this.

"Come this way. Your men can go off to the barracks." Lord Umber points to a large tent and we lead our horses to it. I watch as Naman leaves, Lord Umber giving him a calculative look.

"Put yer hood back up," Amarka whispers. I hurry to do so, not liking the attention that has already been on me.

"How fast will this go," I ask, staring towards Skad. He shrugs, rolling his shoulders with a scowl.

"Who knows? Hopefully we can leave by nightfall." The sun is in the middle of the sky, it will be quite a while before it is nightfall. I sigh, deciding to clean off my horse from the long ride. One of my men has to help me. I only learned to ride a horse two moons ago. I always walked everywhere before.

He runs me through the motions, pulling off her saddle and showing me how to brush her the correct way. I don't really notice a difference from what I was doing before, but he gives me a nod and goes back to his own horse. The rest of the day is spent watching the horses graze and familiarizing myself with my men.

It turns out the warrior that is good with horses is named Ain. He's the bastard of a scholar and a warrior. Bekkar is a brutish looking man that is practically a god with a bow. He tells me he aims to be the first man to ever get a Master title for the bow. If we do succeed on our mission he tells me he will have his title. The last man I met was chosen particularly for how fast he is on his feet. He's not what most Skagosi warriors look like, more on the lean side. A demonstration assures me of his abilities though, he's a blur of moment. He also favors knives over other weapons.

Skad is summoned sometime during the day, and neither Skad or Naman come back until the sun sets.

"What did they say?" I ask immediately, pulling my hood back further so that I am able to look them in the eye.

Naman snarles, glancing around as if he wanted to slit the throat of the nearest mainlander.

"It seems the new Lord of Winterfell is a bit smarter than the last one. He didn't buy our dumb routine very well. It is why I summoned Skad. I had to act like he didn't speak the Common tongue and have him help me with my answers when stuck."

I wring my hands nervously, staring up at him. "Then what happened?"

He paces around the fire our men made not too long ago, his face still having that furious expression. "He asked why we brought so few men, which we anticipated. He went along with our answer, but did not understand why he could not have the rest of the men needed for our journey as well. He demanded that all the men we brought be given for the war."

I hiss, taking my chin in my hand in thought and pacing as well. Without them we will not be able to complete our journey, and we do not even know how long this war will be or even if they will survive it. We do not have time to wait for the end of this war.

"Lord Umber also mentioned you. Lord Stark wants to meet you."

I give him a derisive look. "Why would he want to meet me? I'm barely noble, and he doesn't even know that. I thought Lords did not concern themselves with commoners."

"They do not, but they think we stole you from some noble. They've never heard of a pretty Skagosi."

It is times like this I do not like my beauty. It seems to hinder more than anything. They did not even bat an eyelash at Amarka, but with me they're making a big deal.

"They wish to see you at morning break," he murmurs, watching me carefully.

There is nothing to be done about this tonight. Perhaps I will be able to do something about the men tomorrow.


	5. Chapter 5

This weekend I got a bit of a break so I decided to finally update this story. I've gotten busy lately, a lot busier than I thought I'd be. I'm going to try to update whenever I have time though.

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><p>I'm up at first day break, rolling my traveling blanket up and rubbing at my face. I'm entirely too dirty for my liking, but it is needed right now.<p>

"I always knew yer face would get ya in trouble," Amerka murmurs to me. It's not said hatefully, but like one would an afterthought.

I pause, rubbing at my arms to bring some warmth in them. "Do you think there is anything I can do about it?"

"What would ya have us do? Yer born with tha' face, ya can't do anything ta change it."

"I can."

She brings her face swiftly to me, taking in my expression with a strained sort of look. "It's not worth it. Tha' tis not worth it. We need ya at full health, an' the open road tis no place to stave off infection. If ya want to do tha' it's yer decision, but ya need a maester around if ya do."

She knows what I am referring to. As much as our men like to look at beauty, it is held against us at the same time. At least when it comes to warriors. When some women wish to be considered by warriors they will sometimes scar their faces in hopes to make their beauty less obvious. A hefty scar can sometimes make a person look all the more daunting after all. I have never felt the need to do it. I enjoyed the looks, and did not care if my husband was a warrior or not. Besides, I was on the path to become the next Master of Sight. I did not need to take a husband. It is partly the reason why my mother said I am my people's future. The Master of Sight makes many decisions for us, and is disputably one of the most powerful people in Skagos.

I know Amerka is right. It is only my desperation attempting to claw at something.

Naman and Skad walk over to me, giving me a tight nod before making our way to the biggest tent in camp. The Lord of Winterfell is bent over a map, pointing to his men the various landmarks that could be used to his advantage. He stops in mid-sentence when he sees me, tilting his head to the side.

He is not what I expected him to be. I thought he would radiate power and strength, and in my mind a grimace would always be present on his face. He would be fearful looking, and expect obedience without hesitation.

He was none of that.

He was beautiful, something that most men would dislike being called, but he could only be called that. There was kindness in his eyes, but a resoluteness too. He wasn't very tall or muscular, more lithe unlike Skagosi warriors who are all brawn. And his youth! I did not expect him to be so young. Could he even be considered a seasoned warrior? How someone as young as him could lead a whole rebellion, I have no clue. I'll leave that to the gods.

Skad and Naman bow to this man, a man in false clothing because all I could see was a boy, but I refuse to so. This man has only hindered us.

"Bow to your king," one of his men commands in a scratchy voice. I do not even bother to look his way. Naman gives the king an excuse, telling him I do not understand and things are different on Skagos. The king merely brings a hand up to silence him and walks towards me, a sureness in his steps that surprises me. He stops about two hand spans in front of me, slightly bringing his head towards Naman.

"Does she speak the Common Tongue?"

Before Naman can replay I answer for him. "She does." My voice is threaded with annoyance and nihilism, but this doesn't seem to perturb him. If anything, he appears amused. A slow smile builds in his face, a cross between a true one and a smirk. I dislike it immediately.

"You both are dismissed," he says suddenly, turning to Naman and Skad.

"Yer hi'ness. I wa' tol' ta take care a er' by er' pa." Naman's thick accent momentarily takes me aback, but then I remember his role of the ignorant savage. I should probably change my accent too.

"I'll call you back when you're needed," the king announces, and by his actions I can tell the thought of Naman disobeying does not even cross his mind. My brows furrow down in confusion at the enigma in front of me, and I decide to believe that he is is a king in a boys body because nothing else makes sense. This youth with his beard barely full somehow has the confidence and sureness to work a whole army. That only comes with experience, but somehow he has managed.

"Bu' she is' mah cousin. I must protect er'," Naman protest.

I almost give my surprise away at being called that. I had almost forgotten about my supposed relation to him.

The king fasten's Naman with a slight glare, appearing insulted. "You think I will dishonor this woman. Is that what you're insinuating?"

Naman goes to argue more, but Skad places a hand on his back where the King cannot see. He takes a deep breath in and bows, leaving the tent, but not before I see a flash of anger in them. Skad follows closely after.

The king's face loosens after they leave, giving me a light smile. "I'm sorry my lady, I wanted to question you without them interfering."

"And ya think they 'ould intervene?"

He gives me a calculative look. "Perhaps." He walks over to the map, dismissing his men.

"Are you sure that is a good idea?" one of the lords ask him. My brow raises as I realize even his men doubt him, and I tuck it away to use for another day.

"Do you think a woman will overtake me? One as slight as that?" he answers mildly.

"She's a Skagg, you never know," another rumbles, sending a glare my way. I lift my chin defiantly, staring straight ahead.

When they leave he begins to speak. "I'm sorry, I thought the Skagosi men would… influence your words."

"I am Skagosi, wat is ta influence?"

He gives me a brief smile, walking over to the water barrel and bringing me some water. I am immediately suspicious, but take it. That doesn't mean I will drink it.

"You are sure you're a Skagosi?"

"Yes."

"Without a doubt?"

"Yes."

"So there are Skagosi that look like you?"

I frown, staring into my cup. This is what my people had hoped to avoid. "I never said that."

"Then how can you be sure you are Skagosi? I'm sorry if I offend you, but I've never even heard of one that looks like you."

I straighten my back, a glare on my face. "My ma and pa are Skagosi."

"Do you have siblings that look like you do?"

I twitch at the question. Truthfully, none of my siblings are like me. I have one handsome brother who has already begun to ruin his looks. A light scar crosses his face from the top of his forehead to his eyebrow which he earned in a squabble. He laughed afterwards, thanking the veteran for going easy on him. Two of my sisters are pretty, but neither are as small and delicate as I. "I ave' my ma's eyes and nose," I decide on. I cannot tell if I have my father's anything with that great big beard on his face.

"What of your father?"

"Why is this so important?"

"Because," he says, walking around the map to come up to me. "I want to know if those Skagosi stole you and have twisted your way of thinking to theirs. You do not have to be afraid if it is so, we will protect you."

I feel the need to fling my water at him.

I straighten my shoulders, staring him in the eyes with defiance. "I am Skagosi. I was born Skagosi. I've lived Skagosi, and I will die Skagosi." I give him a look of challenge, unwavering in my stance. I know I am Skagosi, because I have The Sight. Only Skagosi have that. It it is something I would not tell him. That is our knowledge, not his. We will not be picked apart like the Targaryn's.

He appears thoughtful. "Yes," he says carefully. "Skagosi are a proud people, strong warriors. But if you are Skagosi, then what are you hiding? And why are you here?"

My hands loosen in shock, the only thing that gives away my surprise. I turn away from him and stare at the side of the tent, gathering my thoughts. This Lord is much more perceptive than the last. My mind fights to come up with something quickly, but nothing seems to be a good excuse.

"I'm ta be married ta one of tha men. I didn't trust him wit all tha beautiful mainlander's 'ere," I say.

Something akin to a smirk appears on his face, as if he's already won the game. It leaves me with an unsettled feeling in my stomach.

"If that is your story then why are you faking an accent, and why have you packed dirt on your face?"


	6. Chapter 6

Double chapter to hold you over for whenever I'll be able to post again. This week school starts, and that paired with my internship will leave me with little free time.

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><p>Previously<p>

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><p>He appears thoughtful. "Yes," he says carefully. "Skagosi are a proud people, strong warriors. But if you are Skagosi, then what are you hiding? And why are you here?"<p>

My hands loosen in shock, the only thing that gives away my surprise. I turn away from him and stare at the side of the tent, gathering my thoughts. This Lord is much more perceptive than the last. My mind fights to come up with something quickly, but nothing seems to be a good excuse.

"I'm ta be married ta one of tha men. I didn't trust him wit all tha beautiful mainlander's 'ere," I say.

Something akin to a smirk appears on his face, as if he's already won the game. It leaves me with an unsettled feeling in my stomach.

"If that is your story then why are you faking an accent, and why have you packed dirt on your face?"

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><p>"I don't know what you are talking about," I reply evenly despite my inner turmoil. I flinch when I realize I've let slip my accent in my defensiveness, biting down hard on my lip.<p>

He nods with a smile, sitting down in front of the map and tracing different paths deep in thought. "Your accent slipped through a few times during our conversation. Why is it your accent is different from the rest of your people?"

Only the warriors speak like that. Even when one is not born into a warrior family, once they're inducted they begin to speak in that way. Amarka used to speak like me, but now she sounds just like one of them.

"I am a noble." Barely, I think. I do not even think the mainlander's would count me as one. They barely count Magnar, and I'm from Crowl. On our island we all view ourselves as equal. Noble blood does not matter, so it is hard to keep track of such things.

"Of Magnar?"

"Yes." That is the simplest answer. Besides, I'm supposed to be Naman's cousin.

"I have never seen a Magnar like you."

"A Magnar has barely seen one like me. I am an oddity."

"You could marry well," he continues. " To some small lord. You wouldn't have to live on that island struggling."

I give him a look of defiance. "Then you do not know Stragosi." I walk beside him, staring down at the map. It's the best one I've ever seen, with mountains coming off the woodwork as if it were alive, and colored different shades of green and browns like it is in the summer season. I spy Ramsgate, our next big marker that we have to go on it. "The dirt is for my protection."

"I still do not understand why you came," he asserts, startling me from my scheming.

I turn to him. "To marry well, as you say. One of those soldiers is my future husband. I don't know how long this war will be. I wanted to see him off."

He finally seems to accept my answer, nodding his head. "Very well. But you are sure you are Skagosi?"

"Why? Did some noble girl around my age disappear?"

His nose twitches. "No."

"Then I do not understand the purpose of this."

"You're stubborn, aren't you?"

"I am Skagosi."

He snorts, shaking his head. A giant animal suddenly walks in. It takes me aback enough to shove myself as far away as I can, grabbing a nearby metal bar in defense. No dangerous animals a Skagosi can't handle my behind. I'll be having words with Skad.

"Calm my lady, it is my direwolf. He will not harm you so long as I tell him not to."

I hold tightly to my slightly awkward weapon, but back away from the wall. "He looks like a monster."

"He kills my enemies, and is loyal. That is all that matters to me." He rubs a hand over the creature's snout, breaking its unblinking gaze on me. It doesn't trust me anymore than I trust it.

"If this is all you can be dismissed."

I slowly inch around the beast, gingerly placing the metal rod near the door. I stop just before I close the flaps, turning back to him.

"There's just one more thing we need to talk about."

* * *

><p>I march towards my men in an awful mood after dealing with the Lord of Winterfell. I chuck my cloak at Skad as I pass him and he jumps, not expecting it.<p>

"Why? What did I do?"

"No dangerous animals my ass Skad. That man has a _direwolf_," I assert, poking him in the chest. His face slackens in shock.

"Those don't go south of the wall," he argues. "At least that's what the text say." I drop next to the fire, rubbing at the dirt on my face. The gig is up, there's no reason to keep it on.

"Well the books are lying."

He blinks rapidly, taking this in. Naman interrupts him before Skad can answer.

"What happened?"

I wet the towel, wiping at my face gingerly. Naman goes to stop me but I glare. "I fixed your mess is what. We can take eight of our warriors."

Now it is Naman's face to turn to one of shock.

"How did you manage that?"

I smirk, dropping the now dirty cloth on the floor and grabbing my cloak. "I'm a woman. It seems the lord has a weakness for them," I say making large, doe-like eyes. "He says in a week's time we can leave with them. He wants every man possible for this upcoming skirmish."

In all honesty I just acted like a mainlander. Their women are helpless and dependent on men, and I played the part. I tried fighting for more warriors, but he was not willing to lose more than eight.

"A week will put us behind."

"There's nothing to do for it. We were about to have none."

Naman growls, shoving a chair in frustration. "I hate lords."

"You are a lord."

"And I hate that too."

I gather my bag up, placing all my things in a neat pile. "At least we are moving south. He plans on moving camp in the morning and marching for five days."

He appears thoughtful. "We can work with this. Is that nine including me?"

"Yes."

"Then it will be me, Skad, the three veteran, Ain, Bekkar, and Dov. The rest of you lot will be in this damned war."

One of the warriors shrug uncaring. "As long as I get ta crack skulls open." He grins, one of his front teeth blackened.

"The only one of us who'll get ta Master's for this journey tis Bekkar. We just want ta fight an' go home."

"I don't know about all of you, but I am tired," I interrupt, turning my back to them and closing my eyes. If I don't stop them they'll continue their blood thirsy talk throughout the whole night. Their voices quiet, and I'm lulled off to sleep by the warmth of the fire. But the next morning I am disturbed by the thing I wanted least in the word.

"Lord Robb Stark has called for you, my lady." A young soldier, no older than three and ten tells me. He is stiff on his horse, as if still getting used to it.

I snarl in annoyance, tugging my hood over my head further. I had hoped my cloak, coupled with the vicious looking men I have with me, would make everyone leave me alone. What I didn't figure in this is Lord Robb Stark of bloody Winterfell.

Ain grins at me. "Is tha lil' lord sweet on ya?"

I give him a dirty look before kicking my horse after the boy. We ride in silence, the boy attempting to look as prim as possible on that horse of his.

He's as scary as a kitten.

"Would it be better to sail from Ramsgate or Widow's Watch?" I ask him making conversation. Naman, Amerka, Skad, and I have been debating about this all morning. Skad doesn't know much about either so it has been a guessing game.

"Why it would be near impossible to leave by water from Widow's Watch. There are only rocks there, and the ocean spits back everything that falls into it on the rocks." He hesitates then adds, "My lady."

I snort, rolling my eyes. I am no lady. I never have been. "What is it that Lord Stark wants?"

"I do not pretend to know the thoughts of a lord," he whispers, staring down into the horse's mane. He runs a hand through the hairs, getting the kinks out, and refusing to say another word.

"Lord Stark," I say in greeting when I see him, bowing my head and tugging my hood further over my head. "How may I help you?"

He smiles, gesturing to the woman beside him. "This is my mother, Lady Catelyn." She nods to me, a suspicious look in her eyes as she looks back and forth from the two of us.

"Who is this Robb?"

"This is Lady…" He goes wide eyed, staring at me. "I apologize, but I never asked your name yesterday," he murmurs sheepishly. His mother looks appalled.

"My name is Dakna… Magnar," I answer carefully, almost telling him my true name. The woman curls her lip distastefully, but gives a gracious nod. That curl is the only thing that gives away her true feelings.

"You're from Skagos?" she asks me.

"Yes," I answer simply. The woman nods, giving a sharp look to Robb.

"My lady, will you ride with me?" he asks, ignoring her.

I want to tell him that we already are riding, but I give him a nod instead. A bit jerky nod, but a nod none-the-less. It won't do to get on his bad side after we've gotten what we want.

"Your name is Dakna? It's quite a different name," he comments once we get away.

"If you knew the Old Tongue it wouldn't. It's very common on our island."

A blank expression comes on his face, one I attribute to shock. "You speak the Old Tongue?"

"No, I speak part of it. All Skagosi do." He doesn't seem to understand, so I explain before he can ask himself. "In Skagos we speak a variation of the Common Tongue. It has many words of the Old Tongue in it."

He thinks this over. "This whole time I just thought Skagosi speak with a strong accent, but now that I think about it the words pronunciation sounds a bit like what people say the Old Tongue sounded like." He looks over to me, pulling his horse closer. I don't know what is acceptable or not here, but if he gets any closer he may find himself off of his horse.

"Skagosi," he trails off softly. "I had hoped that you could help me understand your people more."

"Why would I do that?" I ask innocently. He appears taken aback.

"Why not?"

"My people are happy as they are. We have already fought you once. You killed almost all our men. It's what allowed us women to become warriors. We had to in order to protect our island. If you fight us again we will fight until not one warrior stands," I warn.

We bent the knee to the Starks last time for sake of the continuance of our people. This time we will not do such things. All of us know how to at least defend ourselves on Skagos, even our weak kneed scholars and Maestar's. We would all pick up arms and fight, using every advantage we have if we must.

"You misunderstand me. I do not want to war with you," he says softly.

"Then what do you want?"

"To understand. Clearly you are much more learned than the others. I know there is more to you than meets the eye."

A sinking feeling grows in my stomach. "You will not let me go after this battle, will you?"

"I gave you me word. I will not go back on it," he reassures me. I let out a breath of relief.

"I don't understand what you want then."

"To understand your people, your culture."

"Fine. You want our culture? We are blood thirsty people. Spilling blood makes our hearts beat, and we love nothing more than chopping our enemies to pieces. The first person to get a piece of a foreigner on our land is honored at a feast that night." He blanches at my words, looking me over as if seeing me for the first time.

"Is it true that you're cannibals? If not I'm sorry, I do not mean to offend you," he hurries, asking with a child's nervous curiosity. Despite the role he plays, he isn't much older than me. More boy than man. For some odd reason he has relaxed around me enough to show me this.

I hesitate, staring to the side at the budding forest. I can hear no animals over the sounds of an army, most of them probably scared off by the noise or shot down for food. "Some do," I admit. "Many warriors believe by eating the flesh of their enemies they gain their strength."

Now he is the one that appears sick. "Do _you_ eat humans?"

I shrug. "None of my family has, at least not that I know of. I have too many siblings to keep track of to be sure, and I would not ask them such a question." They may for all I know. It might be some rite of passage they must partake in. Besides, it is more the people on the eastern side of the island that does that, and I live on the south-west side.

"You look very… delicate for a Stragosi."

"Yes, my parents were very saddened when they saw I would not to grow to be a warrior." They became happier when I got my first vision at eight. They no longer had to worry for my future after that.

"What about the rumors of unicorns?"

That brings a smile to my face. "No, we have no unicorns. But some put a type of armor on their horses that may look like the horn of a unicorn. Our horses can be just as much beast as us, and get excited at bloodshed. Often our horses will charge, the sight of blood riling them up in excitement." I realize I am giving too much away and become silent. If we ever war again I'm giving him the upper hand. I clench my fists, hoping he forgets everything I've told him.

"Why do your people hate us?"

I stay quiet, the wind whipping at my hood making my face appear. "Because we want what any other man wants. To be free."

"There is no such thing as free in this world. Not even King's are free."

I turn to him, a disagreeable look on my face. "There is on my island."

The Starks chose their stance long ago when they killed all of our men. It took us more than two centuries to come back from that. Even now I can see the effects of it. We hate all mainlander's so thoroughly that it is one of the things that binds us so tightly together. Even now as we walk all I can think about is how I wish I were anywhere else, away from mainlander's and lords alike. I think about the blood pumping under his skin, and how easy it would be to empty it out. My knife is hard against my side, biting, and reminds me I am not as weak as I appear.

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing." I have already given away too much. It shames me to say so, and if this knowledge is ever used against us I don't know what I'll do.

"And what of you?"

I give him an odd look, taken aback. "What about me?"

"Tell me about yourself," he says, dropping the subject when he sees it will go nowhere.

I stare at him suspiciously. "Why?"

He smiles, his expression brightening. It's a stark contrast to his normal facial expression, severe and blocked off. "I am curious about you."

"What is it you want from me?"

"Do I have to want something?"

"All you mainlander's want something," I hiss out with a glare.

We ride side by side, me being tense and him relaxed. I turn to him and he seems a bit dejected. "I do not wish to offend you, my lady," he finally says.

"I'm no lady, don't call me such." I've never been called that until I came here.

A smile tugs at his lips. "You remind me of my little sister. She's always telling people that." The happy expression fades to sadness, and then becomes stoic. "I'll get her back."

I never thought a lady from the mainland could be like a Stragosi. I'd have to see that for myself before I believe it.

"Family is important. I hope you find them."

"What is your family like?"

I frown, turning from him again. "I don't wish to talk of my family." I won't let another thing be used against me.

"Okay, then. I'll talk about mine. I have two younger brothers. One likes to climb, well he used to before he lost the use of his legs. My other is very young. It's impossible to see what he'll be like yet. All he likes to do is play."

"The use of his legs?" I ask softly.

He clears his throat. "Yes, he was… pushed out a window."

"Did you kill the person that did it?"

His brows raise, a breathy laugh coming out his mouth. "You are blood thirsty, aren't you? Do not worry, I am working on it."

I humph out loud, rolling my eyes. If someone did that to my sibling their life would be immediately forfeit. These mainlander's are soft in every way.

He places a hand on my knee hesitantly, a sheepish look in his face. Before I can do anything about it I have a vision. I see Robb and I smiling on the green grass. We are laughing, our hands latched together tightly in a god's wood. He leans over and places a short but loving kiss on my lips, running a hand down my cheek in a caress as my cheeks brighten with color. His other hand cups my slightly rounded stomach, and then it disappears.

I breathe in deeply, staring up into the sky as I get my bearings. I can still feel the warmth of his hand on face, the softness of his caress. When I finally do bring my gaze to him he seems confused, if a bit hopeful.

"Are you alright?" he asks, worry in his eyes.

I now know that this man could be my future, despite the fact that we should be enemies. I could love him, and be very happy with this man. I would even be willing to give up my people, something so foreign I couldn't imagine ever doing.

I stare down at his hand still connected to my leg, and shove him off his horse, galloping back to my people.


	7. Chapter 7

Thanks to everyone that reviewed, followed, and favorited my story! I love reading people's input, and enjoy both positive and negative criticism.

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><p>Every day of the march the king called me to speak with him. He'd tell me more and more about himself, and with each new fact the war raged further within me. This man is supposed to be the enemy, the person I hated more than anything in the world. But by telling me his past I could imagine his present. By showing me his present I could see our future.<p>

I was betraying my people, and I was letting myself do it.

How can I call myself a Skagosi when I'm willingly fraternizing with the enemy? My father would disown me for this.

On the fourth day I'd had enough and hid from his messengers. I reasoned soon we would stop marching, and after this battle we would never have to see each other again. But as fate would have it we ran into each other after making camp.

"You've been avoiding me." I freeze at the voice, almost letting go of the wood I have been burrowing into the ground for a tent. When I turn around his face is even, not giving anything away. When he realizes that I plan to stay silent and not say anything, he continues. "Why have you been avoiding me?"

A snort of irritation pulls my attention away from Rob. Naman is glaring at him as if he wished to slit his throat, not even bothering to hide it. He walks up to me, and Robb and Naman hold some sort of staring contest which puts Rob's men on guard. Finally Naman looks away, but not before touching my shoulder.

"Remember who you are and who you came from," Naman says with a snarl in our native tongue. "This man killed our people, and keeps our independence from us. He is the _enemy_, never forget that."

I'm aghast when I realize wanting to defend Rob is my first reaction. I want to tell Naman that it was not Rob that slew our men, but one of his ancestors. It shows how far I've gone, wanting to defend a mainlander. I strengthen my resolve, my face hardening as it does. It may not have been Rob who killed our men, but it is him that holds our chains.

"Is there anything you want, my lord?"

Rob glares at Naman's back as he leaves, gentling his face as he brings it to mine.

"Your company."

"My company is not mine to give, it is my betroth's."

He flinches, and I can tell by the look on his face that he'd forgotten that little detail. "Your betroth?" he says uncertainly.

"Yes. My betroth." I steadily stare at my horse saddle, fidgeting with it and playing with the rungs on the sides.

"Can I… meet this man?"

I go blank in panic, before deciding to go out on a limb. I shrug, walking over to the closest warrior, Bekkar. I stare up at him and he scowls in dislike. He hates any mainlander that sets foot in front of him, and I brought this one right up to him. I take a deep breath in and wrap an arm around his waist, switching to my native tongue.

"Bekkar, he thinks we're getting married. Go along with it." Changing back to the Common Tongue I say, "Lord Stark. This is my betroth, Warrior Bekkar."

Bekkar's mouth is still hanging open after the announcement of our sudden betrothal. We don't even really do those in Skagos. We marry who we want for the most part. Sometimes we have a bit of prodding from our parents if we cannot find someone in a decent amount of time, and every now and then we're forced into a marriage for the better of our family, but usually we find our own mates.

His arm tightens around me and he grins in a way I do not like, his eyes too willing and hands dropping further than I'm comfortable with. "This focker is tha Lord a' Winterfell? A King? He's weak," Bekkar snorts.

I smile at Robb, still speaking my native tongue. "Most mainlander's are."

Bekkar burst into raccous laughter when he understands the situation, drawing attention to us from the others. They do a double take when they see the position we're in. I feel my cheeks begin to burn, and turn to Rob.

"Are you happy now?"

Rob looks like a beaten dog, his arms hanging awkwardly as if he's forgotten himself. He grabs a hold of himself and latches his arms behind his back, giving Bekkar a calculative look. "You don't look happy."

"Do you need to be happy to have a marriage?" I retort. Bekkar suddenly decides to take advantage of the moment, smacking a slobbery kiss in my lips. For a moment I'm too shocked to do anything, and allow him to do it. When he pulls away I can hear the men's raucous laughter all around me. Rob has placed his had lightly on his sword glaring at the man next to me. "Besides," I continue as if the kiss never happened. "What does it matter to you? By this time tomorrow I'll be gone and we'll never have to see each other again."

The life seems to be drawn out of him with my words. "Do you really want that?" he ask in a soft, strained voice. He glances at Bekkar hesitantly, before turning to me again. "You could stay here."

I understand the double meaning in his words, the one's left unsaid. I could stay here _with him_. I've already seen my future with him. It would be happy, and I would have children that I adored. I would never have to struggle again and work would be a thing of the past.

But my people need me more.

Even if I chose him that happiness would not last. For winter is coming, and with it a walking death. If I ever want any long term happiness the Whitewalkers must be stopped.

"I'm staying with my betroth."

It seems to hit home and he nods appearing sickened, before stumbling away.

Maybe one day I could be with him and I can explain why I am so harsh, if he is still not married after all this happens. Maybe one day I can choose him, because I know I'd be happy.

But for now, this is my path.

By noon tomorrow we're on the road. We go north, so that they do not get suspicious, and then doubling around. Rob doesn't see me off, and my last view of him will always be his back to me as he left.

I'm so foolish and stupid. It's madness. Every foot further away leaves me with a sick feeling, and I'm forced to acknowledge that I do have feelings for this strange mainlander.

If the Master of Sight could see me now, I wonder how proud she would be?


	8. Chapter 8

This chapter is a bit awkward since I had stopped working on this for like a month and then picked it back up. I plan on slowing down with my updates because (this is a spoiler for my story) my character will eventually be travelling to Bravos. I want to see what it's like on the show before writing it so that it's more accurate, because as of right now all I know is the port has a huge statue that ships go under when they dock lol.

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><p>There are four major life professions in Skagos. Of course there are smaller ones, such as fishing and horse training; but we are not sea going people, and professions such as horse training usually stick to one family.<p>

Warriors are the biggest profession, and that is what most of our people are. They hold the most prestige, although not the most respect. Being a Maester would gain one's respect, but our people's reverence belongs to people that hold The Sight.

Being a Maester or scholar, or anything else, isn't just what you're going to do with the rest of your life. It's a guild and a brotherhood. The people in that profession are meant to be your family and lifeline, more than even your blood. When our training is complete and we are accepted, we swear vows to it. All of them are different, The Seven Vows of the Warrior and The Oath of Three; The Rules of Scholarly Pursuit and The Five Pillars of the Sight.

I was sworn to mine as a sister before I left.

I had not even finished my training, but the Master of Sight commanded it so it was to be. We say the vows over breakfast every morning, our voices ringing loud and clear into the early sun rays. We whisper them to ourselves at night, the sound soft and breathy, barely discernable but somehow still able to be made out.

1. Always help a person with The Sight when in need of council.

2. Never use The Sight to your own benefit.

3. Never withhold a vision that can be harmful to any Stragosi.

4. Always keep honor, dignity, and courage intact.

5. Never show fear.

Two of the vows from The Five Pillars of the Sight are the same for all professions, which is to always to keep honor; dignity; and courage, and never to show fear. The rest are personal to each profession. Those words are us, each of us a living carbon copy of them. They are etched into our beings, and could never be taken away. They are what feeds us and gives us life.

It's only been a month since I've departed, and I have already broken a vow.

How could I keep my honor and dignity when I've grown feelings for a mainlander? Worse yet, a mainlander who is the person who holds our chains.

I feel foreign in my own body.

If I did not know before, I do now. I have no right to be the Master of Sight. She must have chosen me wrong. Or maybe, I debate with myself, she chose me right and I was never meant to survive this trip.

The latter seems more likely.

Only three survive this trip, and the odds of it being me do not seem very high. I am only a girl, one who is soft and easily swayed by pretty words. This now I see. It is only the beginning of our journey and the omen is not good. We're three men down because of Rob Stark, my inner turmoil continues to rise, and we've been lost for the past two days which makes us even more behind than we already are. I was meant to save us, give us hope of a future. Except now I seem to be damning us.

"We're two miles off from the nearest landmark," Naman announces from his horse, staring down at the worn map in his hands. It was new at the beginning of our voyage, but the amount of folding and nervous fits of checking has left it worse for the wear.

"You said that this morning too, and now the sun is high in the sky," Bekkar grunts out, staring forward.

Naman glares at him, his hand clenching the paper in his hand tighter and leaving even more wrinkles. "Well now I know for sure," he answers tightly. Bekkar only shrugs in reply, and it is obvious that Bekkar does not even believe Naman. It only serves to irritate Naman even more, and he kicks his horse to a trot to catch up to Dov, our official scout of the party.

"Amerka," I whisper, siding up to her. She gives me an odd look, but cocks an eyebrow to me as if signaling for me to continue. I hesitate, before beginning, "Amerka, I meant to tell you of our destination…" I trail off, unsure of exactly how to phrase the fact that I felt like I was going to die, and in order for this mission to succeed she needed to know what needed to be done. But she seems to catch on and frowns deeply.

"Yer nawt gonna die," she mutters stubbornly.

"You don't know that."

"Do _you_ know tha?" She carefully pronounces "you," startling me enough to look her way. Her face is sure, as if she already knows my answer. She should, considering she asked me this not too long ago.

"No," I answer reluctantly.

"Then ah think we both know tha same amount, and ah think ah know a lil' more since ah know mah team well. They're a good team, and ah ave' faith in em' tha' they'll protect ya."

I stare at her. "How can you be so sure?"

She shakes her head at me, almost in an amused way. "All ya people with tha Gift ave' ta know ever'thing. It's odd ta be on tha other side a things, isn't it? Ah bet ya wonder how tha rest o' us manage."

I frown, realizing that she is correct. Usually my visions guide me in everything I do, but they've been unusually quiet lately.

Maybe it knows of my broken vow.

I wince, turning my face away from hers to stare into the forest. I've never heard of one losing The Sight, but then our people do not betray us like I have done.

I'm going to forget this. It will be as if it never happened, as it should. At least no one knows of my betrayal, although I think Naman has an inkling. He has been watching me suspiciously ever since the first time Rob Stark called on me.

The smell of smoke waifs into my lungs and I blink, peering through the trees for the source.

"Someone set a fire ahead. Maybe it's a communal bonfire or something," Skad suggest.

I peer over to him sharply. "Mainlander's do that?"

He stares forward, shrugging his shoulders. "Not that I've read, but then we've already figured out not everything is true in the books." I grimace at his reminder, thinking of the direwolf that had practically frozen me in fear. I never saw the creature so close after that, but he was always lurking somewhere nearby. Usually scoping out the forest as Rob and I went on our rides.

As we got closer the scent in the air began to change, from one of smoke to cooked meat. I take a deep breath in, salivating at the smell. For the most part we have been eating salted meats. Sometimes Bekkar is able to nab a bird or squirrel with that bow of his.

"There! Hornwood!" Naman announced proudly, finally able to prove that he did, in fact, know where he was going.

The top of the castle is visible over the trees, the dark grey stone a welcome sight after being lost for so long. As we ride closer the tip became a tower, and the tower a castle.

"We shou'nt get too close. Keep a wide berth 'round it," Amerka instructs, her head tipping back slightly to see the castle in its entirety. As we carefully circled the castle, the clank of swords began to echo into the woods, and groans of men filtered through. I turn to Amerka, unsure what to think.

"It sound like war," Ain mutters, his brow rising as he tried to peer through the trees for a glimpse. But we're not close enough to see.

"It's not our problem, ignore it," Amerka instructs. Ain looks unsure, but follows orders.

As we get to the other side, the trees begin to thin and a dirt road appears. Amerka pauses, peering left and right at the empty road. We have been avoiding them, not wanting to run into people and become tangled in the webs mainlander's seem so fond of making.

"There's no choice but ta cross," she mutters, a scowl on her face. It pulls down at her lips, making her face appear severe and much older than she is. "Be careful, an' hurry."

Dov watches from the front, as he's the scout for our party. I'm told he's always been good ant noticing and hearing things before others, but have yet to see this play out. I squint, peering as far as I can through the trees. To the left is Hornwood, but we went over a hill leaving nothing to be seen from our vantage point except a stone wall. When we almost reach the road I see a single window facing our way, making me wary. By the looks of it Dov has already noticed. He sits at the edge of the road watching the spot grimly.

"We should have travelled further before crossing," he murmurs gruffly as I pass. Naman is watching the right side of the road, peering down until it disappears from sight behind a curve. I wait for all the men to pass before going myself, Dov bringing up the rear.

"Shite," Dov suddenly mutters sounding a bit panicked. "Go faster, faster!"

I turn towards him attempting to see what the fuss is about and my eyes widen. A man sits upon a midnight black horse, which I can only tell is large in nature based on the horses the men besides him rides. But even the horse is dwarfed by the man that rides it. If I didn't know better I'd say he was Skagosi, but his armor shows him to be a mainlander. In the brief moment our eyes meet, I see anger and murder in them, and it momentarily pauses my breath in surprise. Dov slaps my horses rear forcing my horse into a gallop, but not before the man lets out a hellish shout and gives chase, his horse's nose flaring as he charges.

I search for Amerka as we race through the trees. She pulls up next to me, her eyes wide in exhilaration.

"What should we do?" I shout over the stamping of hooves. Amerka peers over my head, and I turn to see Skad sharing an indiscernible look with her. I stare between them suspiciously, and turn back when I hear the mainlander's behind us shouting that they've found our hoof tracks followed by a barely human war cry.

"Why are we running? We should be fighting em' head on!" one of the younger warriors complains from up front. "Ah never been afraid ova mainlander, an' ah won't start now!" A roar of agreement rolls through the men, and I turn to Amerka to see if she agrees. But she looks just as guarded as before. We race a bit longer, the men getting more and more restless as she seems to communicate with Skad, and now Naman, through facial expressions.

"They only saw Dakna an' Dov," she finally says, tugging at her reigns to force her horse to a stop. The sudden stop has us roughly tugging on the horses reigns, and they make sounds of complaints. The men crowd around her, and I stay to the edges. I've seen how men can get restless for war and become careless. Keeping distance between myself and them seems the best course of action, and based on the way Naman hovers protectively near me I'd say he was in agreement. "Dakna throw me yer hood. Hurry! Be quick about it!" she pushes. My hands fumble with the ties in my haste, but I get it off and toss it to her. She then proceeds to shove it at the young warrior that began the dissent between the men, and then motions to Ain who had been one of the more restless of the men for a fight.

"Wit' any luck they will think there are only two of ya. Ya both ave' faced worse odds than a two ta one battle. Race back to em' an' lure em' away from us, an' then ya may fight. We cannot chance Dakna. Everything fails without her. Ya can hear the river from ere'. Meet us there when yer finished."

Without another word the warrior ties the cloak loosely around his neck and forces his horse into a gallop, Ain following with a joyous whoop behind him. The men not chosen let out a groan about not being picked, but they do not have much of a chance to complain with Amerka hissing out orders left and right. One of them is for Skad, Naman, and I to go to the river while they erase the hoof marks left by the horses so that the mainlander's cannot follow us. I take one more glimpse at Amerka and it forces an indulgent smile on my face. She is in her element, more alive than ever. Her orders are given without pause, her voice without a hitch. She was made to lead. Even when we were children she expressed this. I always followed behind her doing everything she said, because she was hardly ever wrong and always so sure of herself. Her confidence had always drawn admiration from me.

"Why only two?" I ask as we race to the river. Neither Naman or Skad answer me. I'm not sure if they even heard me, and I don't bother to ask again. It takes us about a half hour to get to the river, and the rest of the party another half hour to meet, us minus Ain and the young warrior. I pause when I realize I never learned his name, the one that took my cloak. I will have to remedy this later. "When will the other two join us?"

Amerka pauses for a moment, before telling me to have my horse walk in the shallow water of the creek to hide its footprints. I frown, staring into the forest.

"What about the other two? We have to wait for them?" I hesitate, my horse letting out a low whine as if joining me in my question.

"Jus' keep going Dakna," Amerka instructs, not looking back. All the men seem to be in their own little worlds too. I peer once more into the forest, before reluctantly following. "Did you tell them to meet us further?" I press. Amerka makes a growl of annoyance in her throat, before turning to glare at me.

"Don' worry 'bout them. They're mah responsibility."

Stubborness rears its head, and I glare right back at her. "They're just as much my men as yours. You may get the final say in giving them orders, but I'm the one that gives orders to you." I stand firm on my statement, pulling my horse to a stop and straightening my back as I do. Her eyes narrow and she motions the men to keep going, but Skad and Naman hang back.

"Dakna, now is not tha time fer this," she reprimands in irritation. "Yer safety is tha most important thing."

"We can't just leave them!" I argue.

"Dakna," she says in warning. When I realize she will not budge, I turn to Naman and Skad.

"You can't agree with her. Those are our _men_, not some mainlander's to leave behind. You know the vows you gave when you became warriors! I know the Seven Vows of the Warrior as well as you do. They're all I heard when growing up. _I vow to never turn my back on a fellow Skagosi warrior_," I press, pushing my hair out my face with a glare. "Is that not one of your seven vows? Are you so crazed as to ignore it?" Naman flinches, as does Amerka. Skad, although no longer training to be a warrior, still has all those rules ingrained in him. He stares at the ground, unwilling to bring his head up. "Now we must wait," I demand in as strong a voice I can muster. "Call the men back."

It is silent at first, the only sounds being the song of birds and the chirp of crickets surrounding us. At first I do not think neither of them will answer, but then Amerka lets out a sigh.

"Dakna, those men are dead," she admits, her shoulders slumping as she stares down at the glimmering water.

I stare at her in incomprehension, feeling my face go blank as I process this. I wait for her to laugh, or for her face to pull into a teasing grin, but she continues to appear pained. I swallow thickly, my throat feeling parched.

"How? I-" I gather my thoughts, before saying in an unwavering voice, "Then you stayed back to fight the mainlander's? You killed them?" Amerka only shakes her head, biting on her cheek as she scrunches her eyes shut tightly. Never before have I seen her waver before, and it spell it out more than any words she could say.

She sent them out to die, and she did it on purpose.

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><p>I think I've said this before, but I'm not sure. In general I do not plan on switching events around, but I do speed some things up and jump around a bit.<p>

Extra points for anyone who can guess who the man on the horse was! ;)


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